


You, Me, and the Storm

by panic_planet



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panic_planet/pseuds/panic_planet
Summary: “Will it always be like this?” Catra asks, her nose inches away from Adora’s.“Be like what?”“You, me, and the storm.”“Of course not, thunderstorms never last too long!” Adora laughs, and Catra feels her warm breath tickle the hairs on her skin.“What about you? Will you stay with me?”Adora smiles, her eyes glowing. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	You, Me, and the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the piece I wrote for “Promises: A Catradora Fanzine” It takes place when Adora and Catra are kids in the Horde. It’s basically my interpretation of how and why Catra began sleeping at the edge of Adora’s bed.

A crack of thunder roars from outside. Adora turns toward the storm in curiosity, flashes of lightning illuminating the sea of darkness she rests in. Raindrops dance down the glass and the blonde watches them race down the window, feeling comfort in the sound of snores around her. 

Sleep had never come easy to Adora during thunderstorms. It’s not fear that keeps her awake, but the sheer fascination of the world around her. Rain has a way of inviting her outside the walls of the Horde and into the mystery of whatever lies beyond the Fright Zone. She fantasizes about leaving the smog and gloom of her home and into a land of clear skies. Maybe there she would finally find some clarity about where she came from.

A voice from across the room pulls Adora from her thoughts. She sits up in her bed and peers through the thick darkness to find a shape under the covers. Catra sits huddled under blankets, stifling a sob as another wave of thunder causes the beds to shake.

As much as Catra loves to fuel the facade that she’s fearless, Adora knows more than anyone that Catra has demons of her own. She hates how her best friend believes she needs to fight them alone. Adora promises to change that tonight. 

As quietly as possible, Adora slips out of her bed and into the darkness. She tiptoes towards Catra’s bed and kneels down, hastily placing a hand on what she assumes is her arm.

“Psst, Catra,” Adora whispers, instinctively checking around her to make sure she hasn’t woken anybody. 

“Leave me alone,” Catra mumbles. 

Another crash of thunder rolls through the room and Catra gasps.

“It’s ok to be afraid of the storm, you know,” Adora reassures, her voice soft.

“I said leave me alone, Adora.”

Adora knows Catra wants her privacy, but she hates the idea of leaving her best friend to continue crying in the dark by herself. Despite the walls Catra has built around herself, Adora promises that she’ll never give up trying to knock them down. 

“If you won’t come out then I’m coming in.” 

Seconds pass in silence. Before she gets cold feet, Adora enters Catra’s cave of covers. A bolt of lightning illuminates the space between them and Adora sees tears roll down Catra’s flushed face.

“Everyone is scared of something. You don’t have to hide in here,” Adora says.

“Yes, I do,” Catra replies, her voice thick with anger.

“You really don’t--“

“The last time there was a thunderstorm, I got really scared. I started crying and Shadow Weaver saw. She told me…” Catra stops to catch her breath, the next part of her story taking all of her energy to finish. “She told me that showing fear was a weakness. I don’t want to be weak.” Catra wipes the tears from her eyes in frustration.

Adora bites her lip in thought. Shadow Weaver can be harsh sometimes, but Adora believes that it’s only because she wants what’s best for Catra. 

“You’re not weak. Shadow Weaver was just being hard on you because she knows you’re strong enough to handle it.” Adora assures, grabbing Catra’s hand. 

“That’s not true.” Catra spits.

“You’re one of the strongest people I know-“

“No, not that. Shadow Weaver just hates me. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, ‘cause you’re her favorite.” Catra pulls her hand from Adora and hugs her legs, burying her head between her knees.

This isn’t something Adora hasn’t heard from Catra before. Although Shadow Weaver does seem to have a soft spot for her, Adora refuses to accept that it’s because she plays favorites. It’s a debate they’ve had too many times to count, and Adora doesn’t want to waste her time tiring out the topic again.

She decides to change the subject. “Come watch the storm with me,” Adora asks.

“I don’t wanna,” Catra complains, her voice muffled.

“C’mon. It’ll be fun.” 

Catra takes a deep breath, pulling her head out of hiding. “You promise?”

Adora smiles reassuringly. “I promise.”

This time Catra offers her hand and Adora takes it with excitement. The two girls race to the window and sit down on the floor below it.

A lightning strike hits and Catra jumps back in fear. Meanwhile Adora marvels at the bright light, letting her imagination run wild. 

“Did you see that one? It kinda looked like a fish!” 

Catra glares at Adora judgmentally. 

“I’m serious! Making pictures out of the lightning can be really fun. You should try it, maybe it will make you less scared,” Adora offers, inching closer to Catra. “The next lightning strike, tell me what you see.”

A couple of seconds pass and the room lights up again. Catra swallows her fear as she watches the stormy night sky, spotting a shape within the lighting strike.

“A heart! I saw a heart!” Catra exclaims.

“No way that was totally a sword!” Adora argues.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re crazy.”

Catra playfully tackles Adora and the girls erupt in hushed laughter. They roll around on the floor as the storm rages on outside, the sound of thunder now white noise in Catra’s ears. With each flash of light, Adora spots a wild grin on Catra’s face as they continue to laugh until their stomachs hurt.

The stirring of a Horde member causes the girls’ hair to stand on end. They stop and separate, straining their ears to see if they have woken anyone. When only silence ensues, they sigh in relief. 

“I guess we should go back to bed,” Adora regretfully admits.

Both of their faces fall. “Yea, I guess so.”

A crack of thunder echoes across the room and Catra winces again. Adora refuses to watch Catra retreat back to her blanket fort of fear again. 

“Why don’t you sleep on my bed with me? You can make pictures with the lightning if you get scared. And if Shadow Weaver comes in, I’ll tell her you were just protecting me from the storm.” 

This time when lightning illuminates the room, Catra’s face lights up with it. The idea of being Adora’s protector excites her and they could spend all night finding shapes in the sky. 

“Yeah, I like that idea.”

Adora and Catra make their way back to bed, hand in hand, fear rolling away like the thunder outside. When they reach the bed, Catra cuddles in close, comforted as the smell of Adora envelops her whole.

“Will it always be like this?” Catra asks, her nose inches away from Adora’s.

“Be like what?”

“You, me, and the storm.”

“Of course not, thunderstorms never last too long!” Adora laughs, and Catra feels her warm breath tickle the hairs on her skin.

“What about you? Will you stay with me?”

Adora smiles, her eyes glowing. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

As Catra lays next to her best friend, watching her chest rise and fall and eyes flutter close, she thinks about how similar her, Adora, and storms are.

Adora is the lighting. Adora, who’s beautiful, bright, and electric. She could light up skies just by breathing in its air. Like lightning, she’s impulsive and quick. One second she’s there, and the next you’re questioning if you ever saw her. 

Catra is the rolling thunder. Her entire world shakes around Adora’s light. Catra feels like her life can be defined by the way a child experiences a storm. One whose eyes glow with enthusiasm with the bright strike of light, and covers their ears as the rolls in.

Lighting and thunder, one after the other, but always together. The way it always should be. And the way they always believed it would.


End file.
